


The Off Day

by Natsume_Aki



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Fluff and Angst, M/M, Sick Draco
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-23
Updated: 2013-09-23
Packaged: 2017-12-27 11:14:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/978165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Natsume_Aki/pseuds/Natsume_Aki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry should have known that Malfoys tend to be dramatic when sick.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Off Day

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own. JKR does. 
> 
> If there are any glaring mistakes, please tell me, this fic isn’t beta’ed so there are probably some mistakes in there.

 

It was a beautiful Valentine day. It wasn't too cold; it was warmer than in usually was in February. The sky was a clear blue, no cloud in sight, and the sun shone brightly causing the first flowers to bloom. It would be a perfect day, a lovely day to celebrate Valentine; if it wasn't for the fact that Draco Malfoy was sick, and was basically feeling miserable all over. A co-worker has the flu several days ago, and of course Draco had to get it after. The worst thing about being sick on this particular Valentine was that Harry Potter would be at the door any minute now, to pick him up for a no doubt romantic dinner for two. This was their first Valentine together after all, and knowing Harry, he would have something special and romantic planned.

Draco had somehow managed to drag himself out of bed, sometime in the late afternoon. He had pulled on his robes, the ones he had carefully chosen the night before. He knew that they were Harry’s favourites. The first time Draco was wearing these robes, Harry had spent at least five whole minutes staring at him. And then had stuttered something about grey being beautiful of something, despite the robes being a more bluish colour. His hard work to find the perfect robes, had been all for nothing. He knew what he looked like sick, and it wasn't a pretty sight. He hadn't dared to look at the mirror that morning, to horrified to try.

Now he was half lying, and half sitting on his sofa, trying to swallow a Pepper-up potion he knew wasn't going to work against his flu. He tried to eat something more than two oranges, but just the thought of eating something left him feeling queasy. So he was stuck eating small pieces of fruit, drinking loads of tea, and trying to keep the Pepper-up potion inside for awhile. He didn’t know how he was going to get anything down when he was on a date with Harry. He was already looking quite a mess, and not eating anything would really not help Draco seduce Harry.

Suddenly it came to him, what if Harry took one look at him right now, and change his mind about wanting to go out with Draco. They only dated for about three months and Draco still wasn't very sure about the relationship. He was sometimes convinced that Harry could return to dating the red-haired bint.

Maybe he didn’t look as bad as he normally did when he was sick, he thought as he hasted himself to the bathroom. When he looked in the mirror however, his worst fear became reality. Watery red eyes stared back at him, dark bruises circled his eyes from the lack of sleep. Draco’s nose was big, stuffed and red; it resembled the nose of that tacky Christmas character, Rudolph the red nosed reindeer. He was quite aware that his normally straight hair resembled Harry's. In short, he looked horrible.

Panicking, Draco grabbed his comb, and started combing his hair. Which wasn’t easy, his hair was filled with knots, and very time his comb got stuck in his hair, and he had to pull it out. Needless to say all that pulling wasn’t really comfortable. His head was sensitive and the constant pulling at his hair wasn't helping the matter. When that didn’t work, he turned on the knob of the tab, and stuck his head under. The water was icy cold, and felt like heaven on the boiling head. He threw his head back, and shook his head to get rid of some of the excess water. Grabbing a towel from the rack, he gently rubbed it over his head. Combing through it went easier this time.

When he looked one again in the mirror his hair at least looked respectable even though it was still wet. Draco didn’t dare to use a spell while he was sick, though. It was common knowledge that magic tend to be off while a wizard or witch was sick. So who knew what would happen if he spelled his hair dry.

Next he had to do something about his eyes. First he grabbed the concealer stick that Pansy had left behind some time ago. He had watched her use it to mask the signs of fatigue and tears when she stayed over after a bad break up with her boyfriend. Besides it wasn’t like Pansy would mind if he used it. She probably already bought another stick; she wouldn’t miss this one. He drew the stick over the skin under his eyes, he grubbed it a bit and felt pleased when the dark bruises disappeared. Next to go was the red skin on his nose, though it still looked slightly swollen it wasn’t that burning red anymore.

The only thing he would have to do were his eyes. He knew his mother used to tell him that cucumber worked wonders for red eyes. Sadly, Draco didn’t have anything that looked slightly like a cucumber. So in his desperation to look good for Harry, he wetted a wash cloth and pushed it against his eyes. He sighed and murmured, “Merlin, this feels good.”

He slowly sank down to the ground, resting his back against the tub. The wash cloth warmed too quickly, and he didn’t want to get up to soak it once more. He sighed, removed the cloth from his eyes and he threw it in the tub. He got up with difficulty; the strain on his muscles hurt, and his head felt really heavy. He looked into the mirror, and panicked. The concealer he had tried to put on moments before had started to run. His nose was still fine, but the dark smutches under his eyes started to show once again.

In the distance he heard bell of the front door ring. Fuck, he thought, Harry's here already. What was he going to do? He couldn’t face Harry like this, he looked better than before but he still looked horrid. He sniffed, damned nose was starting to run again. He didn’t really know what he preferred more, a stuffed nose and not being able to breath, or goo coming out of his nose and being able to breathe.

When the doorbell rang again, Draco had made up his mind. He would not open the door; he was going to pretend he wasn’t at home. He couldn’t imagine what Harry would say when he saw him now. For the first time he silently thanked his mother for not pushing one of her House Elves on him, when he wanted to be independent. There was no way that one would suddenly turn up and open the door to let Harry in. Only Draco could do that, and since he wasn’t going to do that out of fear, Harry would probably think that he wasn’t home and leave.

Suddenly the thought of Harry leaving caused him to panic more. What if Harry would decide to dump him anyway, because he didn’t open the door? Oh Merlin, Draco thought, what was he going to do. He could open the door, because that would mean that Harry would see him like this, and then he would be dumped. But if he didn’t open the door, Harry was going to dump him all the same. Draco started coughing, the stress had caused the cough to be harder than before. He had to sit down, his body hurt and he was feeling dizzy.

He sank down on the ground, and listened to the shrill sound of the bell. Harry seem to be more impatient, since the bell was pressed more often now. He sighed, and rested his head on the tub. I’m sorry, Harry, he thought, I know you are going to hate me now, and then you would leave me, but I can’t let you in. A silent tear streamed down his cheek. He felt sad, knowing that he have to let Harry go, was hard.

He was snapped out of his dark mood by a hard crack, like wood snapping, and a faint voice calling his name. Fuck, he thought. He had underestimated Harry’s noble and heroic Gryffindor nature. He should have known that Harry would come looking for him, thinking that Draco was in danger or hurt before thinking that he wasn’t in.

He could hear Harry stumbling through the apartment, he was slowly coming closer to Draco’s hiding place. In a desperate attempt to keep Harry out, he quickly stood up, almost falling down again because of the returning dizziness, and turned the key of the bathroom door, sliding the lock into place. After that Draco stumbled into the tub, pulled the curtain closed and crouched down, wrapping his arms around his knees.

It wasn’t long before Harry had reached the bathroom, Draco could hear the slow turning of the handle, and Harry banging on the door when he realized that it wouldn’t open.

“Draco! Draco!” Draco heard Harry calling for him, his voice muffled by the wooden door. Draco buried his face in his knees. He really didn’t want to see Harry right now. He didn’t want to see the disappointment and the disgust in his gaze when he looked at Draco.

“Draco? Are you in there? Can you hear me? Are you hurt? Are you okay?” Harry sounded more worried with every question he asked. Draco couldn’t stand the sound of it. He didn’t want to make Harry suffer, didn’t want him to be worrying about Draco. Especially not when, if, he saw him he would dump Draco anyway.

“Leave me alone! I’m fine! Just leave!” Draco shouted as hard as he could, his voice hoarse from coughing too hard and to many times. The thumping abruptly stopped.

“Draco, open the door,” Harry stated. Draco knew that tone of voice; he could recognize it even when muffled like now. That tone indicated that Harry was serious, determined and about to do something incredibly Gryffindor. In normal circumstances that voice would have turned Draco on. But now it made him only want to curl tighter into himself.

“Draco, I’m serious. Open this door!” Harry said followed by a thump on the door.

“No!” Draco screamed, trying to suppress his tears, “Just leave me alone! I don’t want you to see me!” Why was Harry always so stubborn? He didn’t want Harry to see him like this. Nothing good could come from it!

“Okay, that’s it. Stand back,” Harry said, and suddenly the bathroom door burst from its hinges. Draco could hear the spitting of wood and the clatter of metal falling to the ground. He couldn’t believe it. Harry had used a _Reducto_ on his bathroom door! He was out of his mind!

“Draco...?” He could Harry ask, as he stepped into the bathroom. Draco wrapped his arms tighter around his legs, and buried his face deeper into his knees. He could hear Harry breathing loudly, and the steps of his heavy boots on the tiled floor.

“Draco?”He asked again, and pulled open the shower curtain. Draco could hear the sound of the metal rings being moved to one side.

“There you are,” he could hear the relief in the words, and he felt a warm hand touch his shoulder. Suddenly Draco was hugged tight against a warm chest.

“What is wrong with you? I was worried when you didn’t open the door. I thought something happened to you! But here you are hiding in the tub. Why?” Harry asked, and when Draco didn’t answer he pulled back a little, “Draco?”

“Please don’t look at me! Please!” Draco pleaded hysterically, “I don’t want you to see me! Because when you do you are going to hate me and dump me and never want to see me again.”He ended his rant with a bout of coughing; he had to remove his face from its cover, just to get enough air. As soon as he stopped Harry grabbed his chin and placed his hand on Draco’s forehead.

“No wonder you don’t make any sense! You are burning up! I could bake an egg on that forehead of yours,” Harry said, quickly lifting Draco up from the tub and quickly walked to the bedroom where he tucked Draco in.

“Please don’t leave me Harry! I know I look horrid, but please don’t leave me,” Draco sobbed.

“I’m not going to leave you. I promise! I don’t know where you got that idea. I’ll just impute it to the fever you are having,” Harry said gently rubbing Draco over his head, combing his hair out of his face, “I should have figured that Malfoys would be dramatic when sick, they are with everything else so why not with the flu.”  
“Promise?” Draco said in a small voice.

“Promise.” Harry said using _that_ voice.

Draco snuggled deeper under his covers, and smiled lightly. All was well. Harry wasn’t going to leave him, he was nice and warm and his sore head was being rubbed. What could he ask for more. He was at peace. And although this wasn’t the Valentine’s day that he had been expecting, it was still good enough. Next year there would be another Valentine. For now he would just rest, and get better, and meanwhile enjoying Harry’s attentions.

Suddenly he felt Harry stop rubbing. When he looked up at questionably, he was met with a intense look, “Draco,…Are you wearing make-up?”

 


End file.
